UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  D  EGO 


3  1822022422844 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822022422844 


of.  cs~£t 


BY 


HARTFORD 

PRESS  OF  CASE,  TIFFANY  &  COMPANY. 
1853. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853,  by 

CASE,  TIFFAXY  &  CO., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


["  COR  NE  EDITO,"  said  old  Pythagoras;  and  with  no  other 
view  than  to  aid  my  observance  of  his  wise  maxim,  I  have 
written  and  printed  this  little  book.] 


Ctrntenb, 


"I  SLEEP.  BUT  MY  HEART  WAKETU," 7 

"  I  WILL  GIVE  TOU  REST," 12 

"MAN  GIVETH  UP  THE  GHOST  AND  WHERE  IS  HE  ?  "     .           .           .           .  16 

';  ARE  THEY  NOT  ALL  MINISTERING  SPIRITS?" 21 

"  HAVING  xo  HOPE  AND  WITHOUT  GOD," 28 

"  WITHOUT  WERE  FIGHTINGS,  WITHIN  WERE  FEARS,"     ....  32 

"  COME  UP  HITHER," 35 

'•  VANITY  OF  VANITIES," 38 

"  THE  LAND  OF  DARKNESS  AND  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH,"          .        .  45 
"  IN  THOUGHTS  FROM  THE  VISIONS  OF  THE  NIGHT,"        .        .        .        .48 

"  LOVE  is  OF  GOD," 54 

"  OUR  HOUSE  WHICH  IS  FROM  HEAVEN," 57 

"  AND  SHE  WAS  A  WIDOW," 61 

';  THE  WORLD  PASSETH  AWAY," 63 

'•  OVERTURN,  OVERTURN,  OVERTURN," 66 

1* 


(I 


I  altejr,  tet  mj  Ijrart  ktfutl}." 

Solomon. 

MY  outward  life  is  dull  and  dead, 

A  son  of  the  earth  I  only  seem, 
With  thoughts  forever  on  daily  bread, 

And  a  daily  drink  from  pleasure's  stream. 

My  laugh  with  that  of  the  loudest  rings, 
I  answer  the  most  unmeaning  word, 

And  I  listen  and  praise  when  folly  sings, 
As  if  'twere  an  angel's  voice  I  heard. 


* 


I  float  on  the  rolling  river  of  Time, 

Where  the  glittering  bubbles  gaily  sweep, 

With  the  song  of  birds  in  the  golden  prime  ; 
And  so,  with  the  men  of  the  world,  "  I  sleep." 

But  "  my  heart"  has  a  higher  life  within, 

A  realm  of  beauty  wondrous  fair, 
And  far  from  the  soil  of  sense  and  sin, 

I  gather  my  choicest  treasures  there. 

There  THOUGHTS  that,  birdlike,  soar  to  heaven, 
Return,  like  the  bird  to  his  evening-nest, 

And  FEELINGS,  fresh  as  the  snow  new-driven, 
There  find  a  refuge  and  a  rest. 

I  live  again  with  the  men  of  old, 

The  bard,  the  hero,  and  the  sage, 
With  the  graceful  Greek,  with  the  Roman  bold, 

With  the  strong  ones  of  a  mightier  aue. 


I  walk  among  Judea's  lulls, 

Where  the  words  of  CHRIST  like  diamonds  fall, 
And  my  heart  the  ministry  fulfills, 

Of  the  faithful  and  the  fearless  Paul. 

And  down  with  the  centuries  I  glide, 
To  the  darkness  of  the  Middle  Age, 

Where  Truth  and  Falsehood,  side  by  side, 
Their  stern  and  ceaseless  conflict  wage. 

With  Luther,  the  iconoclast, 

Before  the  Emperor's  throne  I  stand, 

And  my  spirit  thrills  to  the  trumpet-blast, 
That  wakes  his  slumbering  Father-land. 

I  go  with  the  black-browed  Marseillais, 
On  their  dusty  march  in  the  hot  July, 

And  I  join  in  the  noble  song  they  raise ; 
The  brave  ones,  that  "  know  how  to  die. 


10 


And  where  Napoleon's  eagles  soar, 

And  where  they  sink  from  mortal  view, 

I  stand ;  amid  the  battle  roar 
Of  Austerlitz  and  Waterloo. 

But  while  in  the  Past  my  spirit  lives, 
The  Future  comes,  in  light  arrayed, 

And  glimpses  to  my  vision  gives 
Of  a  glory  that  shall  never  fade. 

I  see  the  eastern  hills  all  bright 

With  the  splendor  of  the  coming  sun, 

And  in  the  west  the  shades  of  night 
Dissolve  in  beauty,  one  by  one. 

Peace  waves  her  flag  o'er  sea  and  land, 
The  voice  of  war  is  heard  no  more, 

And  the  waves  that  beat  on  every  strand, 
Bear  words  of  love  from  shore  to  shore. 


11 


The  sceptre  of  a  thousand  years 

Is  broken  from  the  hand  of  power, 
And  the  slave  looks  up,  through  streaming  tears, 

To  hail  his  Freedom's  dawning  hour. 

O  beautiful  and  glorious  time  ! 

The  Mecca  of  man's  pilgrimage 
Is  reached  ;  he  stands  erect,  sublime ; 

The  Earth  has  found  her  Golden  Age. 

[It  was  well  said  by  Saint-Simon,  "Dage  (for  qu1  une  aveugle 
tradition  a  2)lnce'  jusqu1  in  dans  le passe1,  est  devant  nous."] 


12 


ill  gibe  gou  ml 

Jssus  Christ. 

POOR,  wounded  heart!  in 'silent  sorrow  pining, 

Of  every  joy  and  every  hope  bereft, 
Round  thy  young  life,  where  freshest  flowers  were  twining, 

The  ice  of  winter  now  alone  is  left. 

Few  months  ago ;  the  earth  was  full  of  gladness, 
The  sparkling  fountain  of  delight  ran  o'er, 

And  not  a  shadow  of  the  coming  sadness 

Warned  thee  that  Death  was  '  even  at  the  door.' 


13 


A  love  was  thine,  which  he  alone  could  render, 
Who  was  himself  the  worthiest  of  thy  love ; 

A  care  was  thine,  as  constant  and  as  tender, 
As  angel  ministry  from  worlds  above. 

The  sense  of  joy,  to  thy  calm  breast  new-given, 
Smiled  from  thy  lips  and  brightened  on  thy  brow, 

Till  the  whole  earth  put  on  the  hues  of  heaven, 
And  shone  with  beauty —  Oh !  how  different  now ! 

Tossed  by  the  surges  of  a  ceaseless  sorrow, 
Beating  the  heart  and  banishing  repose, 

While  the  dark  day  foretells  a  darker  morrow, 
And  the  sharp  thorn  remains,  without  the  rose. 

But  when  the  lights  of  life  have  all  departed, 
Whispers  a  Voice  within  the  desolate  breast, 

Trembling  in  music  to  the  broken-hearted, 
"  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest," 
2 


14 


Rest,  in  the  faith  that  heavenly  wisdom  guideth 
The  dart  of  death  on  its  unerring  track, 

That  where  the  gloom  of  midnight  now  abideth, 
A  star  shall  rise  to  smile  the  darkness  back. 

Rest,  in  the  hope  that  when  the  flesh  hath  perished, 
Buried  with  all  its  care,  and  fear,  and  pain, 

The  treasure  once  so  loved  and  fondly  cherished, 
Shall  be  restored  unto  thine  arms  again. 

He  is  not  lost  to  thee;  the  world  of  spirit 

Crowns  him  with  glory  brighter  than  the  sun : 

Thou  art  not  lost  to  him;  thou  shall  inherit 
All  that  is  his,  when  life's  brief  day  is  done. 

Rest,  in  the  promise  of  a  happier  meeting ; 

Let  the  dear  hope  surround  thy  heart  with  peace, 
And  as  the  years  of  mortal  life  are  fleeting, 

Wait  thou  in  patience  for  thy  soul's  release. 


15 


Then,  like  a  fearful  dream  when  one  awaketh, 
The  sorrows  of  the  earth  sliall  melt  away, 

While  on  the  mourner's  darkened  bosom  breaketh 
The  dawn  of  joy,  the  light  of  perfect  day. 

A  day  that  shines  forever  and  forever, 
No  cloud  to  dim  it  and  no  set  of  sun ; 

A  joy  that  flows  in  an  eternal  river, 
Wider  and  deeper,  as  the  ages  run. 


16 


tati  gibxtlj  uy  %  gljost,  anJr 
toljm  is  Ij*?"          3ali. 


On  "when  the  light  of  life  has  fled, 

And  darkness  reigns  where  beauty  shone  ; 
When  Reason  bows  his  fainting  head, 

And  Silence  fills  the  vacant  throne  ; 
Where,  in  that  hour  of  sore  dismay, 

Has  the  immortal  spirit  gone  ? 
The  sun  of  life  has  passed  away  — 

Where  shall  it  find  a  second  morn  ? 


17 


We  wait  to  hear  thy  voice,  O  Earth ! 

To  whose  embrace  we  sadly  trust 
The  form  to  which  thou  gavest  birth, 

Ere  GOD  had  breathed  upon  its  dust. 
Break  thou  thy  silence,  solemn  Tomb ; 

Speak,  in  the  accents  of  the  dead ; 
Declare  the  secrets  of  thy  womb, 

And  show  the  path  that  spirits  tread. 


EARTH. 

"  It  is  not  here,  it  is  not  here, 

The  soul  of  the  departed  dwells ; 
It  roams  not  through  my  caverns  drear, 

It  sleeps  not  in  my  secret  cells. 
My  gates  are  crowded,  day  by  day, 

With  mourners  round  the  sable  bier, 
But  all  I  hold  is  mortal  clay  — 

The  eternal  spirit  is  not  here." 

2* 


18 

Hush  thy  wild  waters,  roaring  Sea, 
And  tell  me,  at  my  earnest  prayer, 

Does  the  lost  spirit  dwell  in  thee  ? 
Is  its  last  home  appointed  there  ? 

SEA. 

"  My  bosom  holds  a  mighty  host, 

I've  gathered  them  from  every  land, 
The  pride,  the  glory,  and  the  boast 

Of  nations,  strew  the  deep  sea-sand. 
But  strength  and  beauty  all  arc  lied, 

Their  life  is  lost  beneath  the  sea ; 
Mine  is  the  empire  of  the  dead ; 

The  spirit  —  it  is  not  in  me." 

Ye  restless  wanderers  of  the  Air, 
Forever  round  the  earth  ye  roll : 

If  in  your  realm  it  lies,  declare 
The  dwelling  of  the  parted  soul. 


19 


AIR. 

"  I  breathe  in  softness  on  the  earth, 

I  rouse  the  fury  of  the  sea, 
I  fan  the  lowly  floweret's  birth, 

And  whisper  in  the  branching  tree. 
The  prison  of  the  clouds  I  saw, 

I  searched  the  caverns  of  the  air, 
But  the  spirit  thou  art  seeking  for, 

It  was  not  there  —  it  was  not  there.': 


Hark  !  there  are  voices  in  the  breeze, 

Soft  sounds  of  music  float  along, 
Like  trumpets  o'er  the  distant  seas : 

I  hear  the  swell  of  heavenly  song. 
Now  near  and  loud  the  chorus  rings ; 

Now  ceases,  and  one  melting  voice 
The  hymn  of  happy  spirits  sings, 

Who  live  to  love  and  to  rejoice. 


20 

SPIRIT. 

"  No  longer  mourn  that  I  am  gone, 

No  longer  search  the  earth  around ; 
To  a  new  life  my  soul  is  born, 

And  here  in  heaven  the  lost  is  found. 
Here,  •where  the  Sun  of  Glory  sheds 

A  light  the  world  has  never  seen  ; 
Here,  where  the  ransomed  spirit  treads 

Celestial  fields  of  living  green ; 
Here  is  my  home,  no  more  to  die, 

No  more  to  suffer  care  or  pain ; 
I've  joined  the  armies  of  the  sky, 

With  Christ  for  evermore  to  reign." 


21 


tljej  not  all  miniatmtuj  sjirito  V 


I  HAD  been  reading  in  the  Book  of  GOD, 

How  he  sends  forth  angelic  ministers, 

To  guard  His  children  with  their  sheltering  wings, 

And  lead  their  weak  and  wandering  steps  to  heaven. 

The  Book  was  shut ;  Sleep  came  and  touched  my  eyelids  - 

Sleep,  with  her  children  Dreams ;  but  as  I  lay, 

The  river  of  thought  unbroken  still  ran  on. 

I  was  alone  in  the  first  years  of  manhood ; 
Life  lay  round  in  morning  beauty ;  to  my  ear 
Came  music's  richest  tones ;  before  my  eye 


22 


Glittered  all  brightest  colors  ;  every  breeze 
Shook  perfume,  as  it  passed  me,  from  its  wings ; 
Day,  with  its  sunlight,  played  upon  my  brow, 
And  night,  dark  night,  shone  down  upon  my  soul, 
With  stars  of  consolation  and  of  hope. 
Friends  came  and  smiled  upon  me ;  in  my  veins 
Health  beat  its  measured  music,  while  far  off 
Pain,  Care  and  bitter  Disappointment  stood, 
Veiling  their  gloomy  faces  from  my  sight :  — 
And  yet,  I  was  not  happy. 


I  was  alone  on  earth,  with  none  to  love ; 
None  who  could  break  the  seal  upon  my  heart, 
And  wake  to  life  its  slumbering  affections. 
Wearily  ran  my  feet  the  round  of  joy, 
Heavily  went  by  the  hours  in  lazy  ilight, 
Till,  yearning  for  a  good  as  yet  unknown, 
The  hunger  of  my  heart  rose  to  my  lips, 
And  breathed  itself  in  prayer. 


23 


Thou  who  hast  made  me,  and  whose  life  divine 
Quickens  the  pulses  of  my  mortal  heart, 
Give  me,  oh  give  me  from  before  thy  throne, 
An  angel  of  thy  presence,  who  shall  be 
Linked  with  my  life  —  companion  —  comforter  - 
In  all  my  journey  through  this  perilous  world." 


Thus  with  shut  eyes,  I  reverently  prayed, 

And  when  my  lips  were  silent,  there  came  down, 

Soft  as  the  murmur  of  an  infant's  dream, 

An  answer  from  the  sky.     Alone  no  more ! 

The  angel  I  had  sought  stood  close  beside  me, 

And  from  that  hour  we  walked  the  world  together. 


Days,  months  and  years  went  by,  and  not  a  shade 
Fell  on  my  pleasant  path,  but  every  where 
It  bloomed  with  roses,  whose  voluptuous  breath 
Stole  to  my  heart  and  lulled  it  to  repose. 


24 


I  sunk  in  slumber,  and  the  battle  of  life 
Sounded  for  me  its  trumpet-call  in  vain. 
TRUTH  was  cast  down  and  scorned :  I  heeded  not. 
RIGHT  fell  beneath  the  trampling  feet  of  men : 
I  spake  no  word  to  turn  their  violence  back. 
My  brothers  of  mankind  lay  crushed  and  bleeding, 
And  Mercy  cried  to  me  from  every  wound  ; 
But  on  the  other  side  my  soul  passed  by, 
For  Sense  had  Avon  me,  and  the  circle  of  Self 
Imprisoned  every  thought. 

With  pitying  heart 

And  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  the  angel  stood 
And  mourned  my  traitorous  sleep  ;  till  moved  by  love, 
She  came  and  lightly  laid  her  hand  upon  me, 
And  with  her  pure,  sweet  lips,  just  touched  my  brow. 
A  sudden  thrill  shot  to  my  startled  heart ; 
The  trance  was  broken,  and  the  fetters  of  Sense 
Fell  from  my  limbs,  to  bind  them  nevermore. 


25 


Thenceforth  to  labor  in  the  field  of  life ; 
To  tread  its  rocky  paths  with  faithful  feet, 
And  heart  of  dauntless  courage ;  to  bear  on, 
Breasting  all  shocks  with  a  firm  cheerfulness, 
And  asking  only  for  the  smile  of  GOD  — 
This  was  my  chosen  warfare,  and  to  this, 
The  angel's  hand  had  led  me. 

Days,  mouths  and  years  went  by.     Weary  with  toil, 
And  fainting  with  the  burden  of  the  day, 
Sickness  assailed  me,  and  my  trembling  soul 
Was  driven  downward  to  the  gate  of  death. 
Pain  came  and  scourged  me  with  his  scorpions; 
The  fire  of  thought  burnt  dimly,  and  my  heart 
Beat  with  high  hopes  no  more.     But  not  alone 
Was  I  condemned  to  suffer ;  day  and  night, 
The  angel  stood  beside  me ;  her  soft  hand 
Smoothed  down  my  pillow,  and  her  cheerful  voice 
Spake  consolation  in  my  darkest  hour. 
3 


26 


Health  came  once  more,  and  flushed  my  rounded  cheek  ; 

Strength  nerved  my  arm  for  newer  victories, 

And  I  went  glorying  in  the  power  of  life. 

She  was  my  savior  ;  her  continual  care 

And  love  unwearying  drew  me  from  the  grave. 


Days,  months  and  years  went  by,  and  a  new  change 
Fell  on  my  earthly  fortunes.     Poverty 
Laid  his  rough  hand  upon  me,  and  his  frown 
Scattered  my  summer  friends,  as  the  strong  wind 
Scatters  the  leaves  from  the  autumnal  tree. 
I,  who  was  nursed  in  riches,  and  whose  path 
Had  been  all  paved  with  gold  ;  I,  who  had  seen 
My  slightest  wish  made  real,  by  that  power 
Which  rules  the  world,  like  GOD'S  omnipotence, 
Was  driven  now  to  bitter  penury ; 
To  the  low  wants  and  sordid  cares  which  lie 
Within  the  gloomy  valley  of  the  Poor. 
Cast  down  but  not  forsaken,  there  was  One 


27 


Who  never  left  me,  but  drew  closer  still, 

And  with  more  tender  love  sustained  my  heart, 

When  it  had  well  nigh  sunk  beneath  its  load. 

So  in  the  land  of  Sleep  my  soul  moved  on, 
Guided  by  varying  Dreams.     They  came  and  went, 
But  ever  among  them  all,  one  face  shone  forth 
With  constant  lustre.     It  was  She,  Goo-given 
*To  be  the  light  and  beauty  of  my  life ; 
The  angel  of  my  paradise ;  the  true, 
The  kind,  the  faithful ;  and  upon  her  love, 
I  rested  with  a  sense  of  perfect  peace. 

Fainter  now  the  spell  of  Sleep  lay  on  me, 
And,  one  by  one,  its  shadows  passed  away ; 
Thought  hastened  from  its  wandering ;  I  woke ; 
There  stood  the  angel  still;  her  name  was  —  WIFE. 


28 


fairing  im  Ijcp  airir  imtljout  (Soft/' 


BY  the  river  of  sorrow, 

My  heart  makes  moan, 
Where  the  world  has  left  me, 

Alone,  alone. 
The  willow  is  bending, 

The  water  is  flowing, 
The  cold  rain  falling, 

The  sharp  wind  blowing. 
My  spirit  is  sinking, 

My  life  is  going. 


29 

And  the  dark  waves  murmur, 

"With  solemn  tone, 
"  Thou  must  be  —  thou  shalt  be- 

Forever  alone. 


There  is  hope  for  all  others, 

But  none  for  thee ; 
A  grief  unceasing 

Thy  life  shall  be ; 
A  long,  black  night 

Of  misery. 
The  curse  thou  hast  courted 

Is  now  thy  fate, 
And  repentance  has  come 

Too  late  —  too  late. 
There  is  nothing  for  thee, 

But  the  tear  and  the  groan, 
And  the  voice  ever  crying, 

Alone  —  alone." 

3* 


30 

On  thy  bank,  O  river ! 

I  sternly  stand, 
With  hell  in  my  heart, 

And  death  in  my  hand, 
And  I  dare  the  doom, 

Of  the  unknown  land. 
I  have  opened  my  bosom 

To  hot  desire, 
And  it  burns  me  still 

With  unquenchable  fire 
The  joy  and  the  peace 

Are  forever  flown ; 
I  have  lived  forsaken 

And  die  alone. 


I  look  to  heaven, 
So  dim  and  far, 

And  I  see  not  the  light 
Of  one  pitying  star, 


31 

And  the  eartli  lies  barren 

And  cold  around, 
And  a  murmur  of  misery 

Comes  from  the  ground, 
And  the  dirge  of  my  soul 

Is  in  every  sound. 
I  give  my  body, 

O  river,  to  thee  ; 
Thou  shalt  bear  me  down, 

To  the  silent  sea, 
And  its  gulf  of  darkness 

Forever  hide, 
How  the  frail  one  lived, 

And  the  lost  one  died. 


32 


Satitljout  ton  figljthtgs,  taitljht 
ton  fears/'          paul. 

MY  brain  is  weak,  my  heart  is  weary, 
And  sorrow  darkens  all  I  see , 

My  path  of  life  grows  dim  and  dreary, 
Its  flowers  and  fruits  are  lost  to  me : 
O  GOD  !  my  misery  cries  to  Thee. 

I  tremble  at  a  nameless  danger, 

And  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  Fear, 

Through  crowds  of  life  I  walk,  a  stranger, 
No  look  of  love,  no  voice  of  cheer : 
O  my  Redeemer !  be  Thou  near. 


33 

I  long  for  light,  and  pray  for  peace  ; 
I  question,  with  a  constant  cry, 

"Will  this  keen  torture  never  cease  ? 
I  listen,  but  there's  no  reply  : 
O  rny  Creator !  let  me  die. 


There  is  no  GOD  ;  there  is  no  heaven ; 
All  fatherless  our  souls  are  born  ; 

We  arc  but  fire-flakes,  wildly  driven, 
To  flash  and  fade,  till  all  are  gone : 
Leave  me  not  thus,  O  GOD  !  forlorn. 


Mock  me  no  more  ;  I  will  have  Truth, 
Though  all  my  being  feel  its  blight ; 

Though  every  flower  of  Hope  and  Youth 
Wither  to  ashes  from  my  sight : 
Give  me,  O  GOD  !  the  lightning's  light. 


34 

LORD,  I  believe,  but  my  weak  mind 
Trembles  with  every  waving  breath  ; 

I  stumble  in  the  darkness,  blind 
And  bleeding  even  unto  death : 
"  Come  unto  me,"  the  Savior  saith. 

"  Come  unto  me,  I  am  the  light, 

The  way  of  wandering  souls  like  thine, 

The  sun  that  makes  all  being  bright 
Where'er  its  rays  of  glory  shine : 
Come  unto  Me,  and  be  thou  Mine." 

O  peace  !  sweet  peace  !  the  heart  at  rest, 
Reposing  in  GOD'S  gracious  hand, 

The  head  on  its  Redeemer's  breast, 
And  sunlight  glowing  o'er  the  land : 
Thus,  thus  forever,  let  me  stand. 


35 


[THE  last  clod  had  been  laid  upon  her  grave,  and  I  had  re 
turned  to  the  silence  and  solitude  of  my  desolate  home.  Alone 
with  bitter  thoughts,  hour  after  hour  went  by,  and  the  first  shad 
ows  of  the  coming  night  began  silently  to  enter  the  room,  where  I 
was  sitting  in  a  half-trance  of  grief.  Suddenly  I  became  con 
scious  of  a  Presence  beside  me.  Without  any  manifestation  to 
the  outward  senses,  I  felt  that  she  was  there,  yearning  toward 
me  with  an  infinite  pity  ;  and  the  voice  which  had  so  long  been 
to  me  above  all  other  music,  sang  to  my  hushed  heart  the 
words  below.] 


" 


Com*  Hjr  |itljer/ 


I  SHINE  in  the  light  of  GOD, 

His  likeness  stamps  my  brow, 
Through  the  valley  of  death  my  feet  have  trod, 

And  I  reign  in  glory  now. 


3G 


No  breaking  heart  is  here, 

No  keen  and  thrilling  pain, 
No  wasted  cheek,  where  the  frequent  tear 

Hath  rolled  and  left  its  stain. 

I  have  found  the  joy  of  heaven, 

I  am  one  of  the  angel  band, 
To  my  head  a  crown  is  given, 

And  a  harp  is  in  my  hand. 
I  have  learned  the  song  they  sing, 

Whom  JESUS  hath  made  free, 
And  the  glorious  Avails  on  high,  still  ring 

With  my  new-born  melody. 

No  sin  —  no  grief —  no  pain  — 

Safe  in  my  happy  home  — 
My  fears  all  fled  —  my  doubts  all  slain  — 

My  hour  of  triumph  come  — 
O  friend  of  my  mortal  years  ! 

The  trusted  and  the  tried, 


37 


Thou  art  walking  still  in  the  valley  of  tears, 
But  I  am  at  thy  side. 

Do  I  forget  ?     Oh  no ! 

For  Memory's  golden  chain 
Shall  bind  my  heart  to  the  heart  below, 

Till  they  meet  and  touch  again  ; 
Each  link  is  strong  and  bright, 

And  love's  electric  flame 
Flows  freely  down,  like  a  river  of  light, 

To  the  world  from  which  I  came. 

Do  you  mourn  when  another  star 

Shines  out  from  the  glittering  sky  ? 
Do  you  weep  when  the  noise  of  war 

And  the  rage  of  conflict  die  ? 
Then  why  should  your  tears  roll  down, 

And  your  heart  be  sorely  riven, 
For  another  gem  in  the  Saviour's  crown, 

And  another  soul  in  heaven. 


38 


[WAS  it  not  Xerxes,  who,  according  to  the   old  tradition, 
offered  a  reward  for  the  discovery  of  a  new  pleasure?] 

"flanitn  of  imnitifs," 

^o 

Solomon. 

THE  King  sits  on  his  throne, 

Ten  thousand  slaves  around ; 
With  gems  and  gold  his  temples  shine, 

By  the  conqueror's  laurel  bound  : 
His  armies  shake  the  earth, 

His  trumpets  fill  the  sky, 
And  like  the  meteors  of  the  air, 

His  streaming  banners  fly. 


39 

But  vain  the  trumpets'  swell, 

And  vain  the  minstrels'  song, 
He  hears  no  sound ;  he  sees  no  face, 

In  all  that  glittering  thuong. 
His  brow  is  dark  with  grief, 

His  cheek  is  pale  with  care ; 
He  sits,  the  centre  of  all  eyes, 

Alone  and  wretched  there. 


See,  at  his  lifted  hand, 

The  signal  of  his  will, 
The  murmuring  multitudes  are  hushed, 

The  loud  uproar  is  still ; 
While  circling  round  his  throne, 

Princes  and  warriors  stand, 
He  speaks,  and  every  heart  awakes, 

To  wait  his  dread  command. 


40 

"  Wise  men  !  my  soul  is  sad, 

It  aches  with  loneliness ; 
This  gallant  show,  these  bending  crowds, 

Touch  not  its  deep  distress ; 
I  am  weary  of  the  sun, 

And  all  its  light  reveals ; 
Give  me  a  pleasure  always  new, 

Or  a  heart  that  always  feels. 


Give  me  another  joy, 

A  fresh  and  glowing  thrill ; 
My  blood  is  colJ,  my  sense  is  dead, 

And  every  pulse  is  still. 
I  hear  the  step  of  Time, 

His  blasting  breath  is  nigh; 
Oh  give  me  one  warm,  keen  delight 

But  one,  before  I  die. 


41 

Ye  say  I  am  a  god, 

For  me  your  altars  shine ; 
Alas !  I  find  no  pleasure  in 

Divinity  like  mine. 
The  bird  that  soars  on  high, 

At  evening  seeks  his  nest, 
But  I  must  rise  and  reign  alone ; 

For  me  there  is  no  rest 


Wine  !  its  enchanting  glow 

Once  filled  and  fired  my  soul, 
Till  every  thought  and  feeling  reeled 

Beneath  its  wild  control ; 
The  cup  still  meets  my  lip, 

Its  lowest  depths  I  drain, 
But  the  heart-warm  thrill  of  my  youthful  years 

Comes  not  to  me  again. 
4* 


42 

Love !  I  have  bought  its  kiss, 

And  paid  for  every  smile ; 
I  slept  and  dreamed  of  perfect  joy, 

But  I  woke  to  treachery's  wile. 
Like  lightning  in  the  night, 

Fire  falling  from  above, 
Then  thicker  darkness,  deeper  gloom- 

So  fled  mv  dream  of  love. 


Ambition  !  1  have  knelt 

And  kissed  his  blood-wet  hand  ; 
The  sun  of  conquest  led  me  on, 

O'er  many  a  mourning  land. 
Shrieks  rose  on  every  wind, 

Tears  sprinkled  every  plain  : 
That  light  may  dazzle  other  eyes, 

But  never  mine  again. 


43 

Show  me,  ye  cunning  men, 

The  way  of  happiness, 
That  I  may  bathe  my  weary  heart 

In  the  full  tide  of  bliss ; 
Oh,  when  I  find  that  hidden  stream, 

And  by  its  waters  stray, 
Jewels  and  gold  shall  be  the  price, 

To  him  who  points  the  way." 


Poor  with  the  wealth  of  worlds, 

Monarch  !  thy  prayer  is  vain ; 
The  robe  of  rest,  the  crown  of  peace, 

Thy  hand  can  never  gain. 
Joy  dwelleth  in  the  sky, 

But  thou  below  art  bound ; 
The  brazen  heaven  and  iron  earth 

Forever  close  thee  round. 


44 

Look  up  —  there's  light  above ; 

It  streameth  from  a  throne, 
Where  sits  in  glorious  majesty, 

The  High  and  Holy  ONE  : 
That  light  shall  warm  thy  heart, 

Shine  in  thy  darkened  mind  ; 
Look  up  —  look  up  —  and  hail  its  beam ; 

Alas !  that  thou  art  blind. 


[AMONG  the  last  words  of  the  dying  Rabelais  were  these, 
"Je  vais  chercher  un  grand  Peut-etre."  And  John  Sterling 
wrote  from  the  brink  of  his  grave,  "I  tread  the  common  road 
into  the  great  darkness,  without  any  thought  of  fear  and  with 
very  much  of  hope.  Certainty,  indeed,  I  have  none."] 


tt 


Clje  lanfr  of  terkiteas  ani  tlje 

olu  of  tetlj,"         3a!i 

OVER  the  dark,  dark  sea 
I  must  go,  for  the  hour  has  come ; 

But  where  shall  my  wandering  spirit  rest 
In  its  final  home? 


46 

My  hope  is  a  dim  PERHAPS, 

From  the  rock  of  Faith  I  am  driven, 

Iso  shining  light  in  my  clouded  breast, 
No  star  in  heaven. 

Shall  I  rise  to  the  Christian's  world, 
With  the  pure  and  the  good  to  dwell, 

To  live  forever  in  joy  and  love  V  — 
I  can  not  tell. 

Shall  I  be  hurled  in  wrath 

To  the  penal  flames  below, 
For  endless  years  to  suffer  and  sin  ?  — 

It  may  be  so. 

What  if  this  vital  force 

Should  be  spent  when  the  last  breath  flies, 
And  Thought  and  Feeling  vanish  in  night, 

As  the  lightning  dies  ! 


47 


Or  what  if  the  conscious  soul 

Should  be  damned,  as  was  taught  of  old, 
To  live  in  the  bodies  of  bird  and  beast, 

Years  manifold ! 

Into  the  gloom  I  go, 

With  PERHAPS  alone  before, 
The  great  sea  rolling  all  around, 

Without  a  shore. 

The  earth  lies  warm  behind, 

And  my  heart  clings  to  its  flowers, 

But  a  merciless  hand  is  driving  me  on 
To  my  last  hours. 

Farewell !  my  eyes  now  close 

On  the  light  of  certain  day, 
And  into  the  Dark  of  Death,  my  soul 

Plunges  away. 


48 


fit  iljoiijljts  from  tlje  bidons  of 


tS 


FROM  the  Tower  of  the  Night,  when  my  eyes  glanced 

forth, 
To  the  East  and  the  West,  to  the  South  and  the  North, 

There  was  darkness  and  stillness  around  ; 
Save  the  murmuring  gush  of  a  Nation's  sighs, 
And  the  faint,  faint  gleam  of  their  lifted  eyes, 

As  they  lay,  close-chained  to  the  ground ; 
And  the  heavens  were  wrapped  in  a  cloudy  pall, 
And  a  "  horror  of  darkness"  covered  all. 


49 


One  spake  from  below  :  "  How  long  !  how  long  ! 
Shall  the  weak  be  crushed  and  the  wicked  strong ! 

How  long  shall  AVC  wear  the  chain ! 
Oh  help  !  give  us  help  !  we  are  dying  here, 
In  the  hand  no  strength,  in  the  heart  no  cheer, 

No  light  in  the  clouded  brain." 
I  looked  through  the  gloom  where  the  speaker  lay, 
Till  the  voice  of  his  anguish  quivered  away. 


But  the  echo  of  numberless  thousands  rose, 
As  a  stormy  wind  through  the  forest  blows, 

"  How  long  must  we  perish  here  ! 
For  our  hearts  are  pierced  with  pangs  untold, 
And  the  ground  we  are  chained  to  —  Oh  !  how  cold  ! 

And  the  heavens  above  —  how  drear ! 
Look  out  from  thy  Tower  and  quickly  say, 
Is  the  night  nearly  gone  ?  will  it  soon  be  day  ? 

5 


50 


For  the  gloom  of  the  Past  presses  down  on  us  still, 
And  we  strain  our  eyes  to  the  eastern  hill, 

But  no  promise  of  light  is  there ; 
And  the  ringing  lash,  and  the  clanking  chain, 
And  the  sob  of  grief,  and  the  cry  of  pain, 

And  the  silence  of  despair  — 
All  sounds  of  terror,  all  sights  of  woe, 
Come  gath'ring  around  our  prison  below. 


We  pray  to  man,  and  he  scorns  our  prayer; 
We  pray  to  GOD,  but  the  empty  air 

Returns  no  sound  nor  sign  ; 
Hope  whispers  to  our  hearts  no  more, 
While  we  hear  the  Demon  of  Darkness  roar, 

"  Ye  are  mine,  forever  mine." 
And  our  shuddering  souls  are  swiftly  driven, 
From  the  pity  of  men  and  the  help  of  heaven. 


51 


But  the  end  is  nigh.     Let  the  eye  of  sorrow 
A  glance  from  the  prophet's  vision  borrow, 

To  pierce  the  curtain  of  woe ; 
The  chains  shall  be  broken,  in  wrath  or  in  love, 
And  light  shall  come  from  the  realms  above, 

Or  —  fire  from  the  depths  below. 
Must  our  freedom  be  born  of  love  or  of  hate  ? 
We  wait ;  for  an  hour  and  a  day  —  we  wait" 


Then  a  sudden  silence  settled  around, 
And  I  stooped  to  listen,  but  heard  no  sound 

From  the  shut  lips  beneath; 
Till  an  awful  Voice  spake  close  to  my  soul, 
"  Hark  !  hear'st  thou  the  distant  thunders  roll  ? 

They  are  sounding  the  trumpet  of  death. 
For  the  hour  has  come.     Stand  still  and  see 
The  terrible  birthpangs  of  LIBERTY. 


52 


A  flame,  as  of  lightning,  filled  the  air, 
And  I  saw  in  its  red,  volcanic  glare, 

Millions  of  marching  men  ; 
Each  hand  was  armed  with  a  broken  chain, 
And  their  voices  burst  in  a  long,  wild  strain, 

Till  the  heavens  replied  again, 

"  We  are  free ;  we  are  free ;  we  have  seized  the  crown  ; 
Woe  now  to  the  tyrants  that  trampled  us  down." 


Then  the  tumult  of  battle  rang  up  to  the  sky, 

With  the  shriek,  and  the  groan,  and  the  suppliant  cry, 

For  mercy  that  never  was  given  ; 
Through  the  shivering  hills  an  earthquake  rushed, 
And  a  thousand  fountains  of  fire  upgushed, 

And  glared  in  the  face  of  heaven  ; 
Over  valley  and  plain  the  hissing  flood 
Ran  down  to  the  Tower  whereon  I  stood. 


53 


And  I  saw  no  more,  for  Ruin  came, 

And  swept  over  all  with  his  breath  of  flame, 

And  dashed  his  fiery  wave, 
Till  tower  and  town  came  rushing  down, 
With  the  soldier's  sword  and  the  monarch's  crown, 

And  the  fetters  of  the  slave ; 
All  level  alike  on  the  roaring  flood ; 
All  buried  at  last  in  fire  and  blood. 


5* 


54 


is  of  (Soi.1 


I  AM  a  -wanderer  over  the  seas, 
And  a  dweller  on  the  shore ; 

My  voice  is  heard  in  the  balmy  breeze, 
In  the  terrible  tempest's  roar. 

I  fly  with  the  eagle  through  the  air, 
I  walk  on  the  earth  with  men, 

I  sleep  with  the  lioness  in  her  lair, 
With  the  tiger  in  his  den. 


55 


My  tones  are  in  the  running  brooks, 
My  breath  in  the  flowers  of  spring ; 

Through  the  eyes  of  the  clove  my  spirit  looks ; 
In  the  nightingale's  voice  I  sing. 

The  lightning  of  heaven,  I  flash  within 

The  soul  that  pleads  in  prayer, 
And  I  melt  the  adamant  of  sin, 

Like  snow  in  the  summer  air. 

And  when  the  moon  is  in  the  sky, 

And  the  dew  upon  the  grass, 
And  gentle  sounds  are  floating  by, 

As  the  evening  shadows  pass ; 

I  whisper  the  tale  so  often  told, 

In  the  blushing  maiden's  ear, 
Till  heavenly  forms  she  seems  to  behold, 

And  heavenly  voices  hear. 


5C 


My  name  is  LOVE  ;  my  own  bright  home 

In  the  firmament  afar, 
But  down  to  the  earth  do  I  sometimes  come 

In  the  light  of  a  falling  star ; 

To  sound  in  the  laugh  of  household  mirth, 
To  breathe  on  the  pure  heart-kiss, 

And  to  brighten  the  face  of  the  fcillcn  earth, 
With  a  smile  of  perfect  bliss. 


[THERE  are  some  feelings  which  never  grow  old.  A  thou 
sand  times  we  may  give  them  exercise  and  utterance,  but  at 
each  return,  they  show  the  strength  and  freshness  of  their  first 
action.  Chief  among  these  is  the  love  of  that  HOME  into  which 
we  are  born  when  the  earth  receives  us.  It  clings  to  the  heart 
as  long  as  life,  and  no  after  fortune,  however  brilliant,  can  fill 
the  bosom  with  such  satisfying  delight,  as  the  memory  of  those 
joys  which  encircled,  like  an  armed  guard,  our  life's  beginning.] 


"Our  Ijaitse  toljiclj  is  from 

Paul. 

O  WORD  of  many  thoughts !  HOME,  sacred  HOME  ! 

With  longing  love  my  heart  looks  back  to  thee  ; 
From  the  dim  verge  of  life  thy  voices  come, 

And  move  my  soul  with  mournful  melody. 


58 


As  the  lone  bird  above  the  ocean  flying, 

Rests  on  the  wave  and  folds  her  weary  wing ; 
As  the  sick  lion,  in  the  desert  dying, 

Pants  for  the  cooling  shade  and  flowing  spring ; 
So  rests  my  love  in  thee, 
So  pants  my  soul  for  thee, 
Dear  HOME. 


Give  me  again  the  peace  of  infant  life, 

My  mother's  fervent  kiss  and  yearning  smile ; 
Bring  back  the  years  of  youth,  the  playful  strife, 

The  mimic  passion  and  the  harmless  wile ; 
When  up  the  air  the  skylark  gaily  springing 

Poured  on  the  earth  his  sun-saluting  strain, 
And  by  my  side  my  little  sister  singing  — 
I  knew  not  which  was  sweetest  of  the  twain  : 
The  skylark's  song  for  me, 
My  sister's  voice  to  me, 
At  HOME. 


59 


There,  when  the  sun  uprose  in  glorious  light, 
"With  kindred  light  and  joy  I  met  his  ray  ; 
There,  in  the  quiet  darkness  of  the  night, 

I  sweetly  slept  the  lingering  hours  away  ; 
There,  on  the  banks  of  rivers  freshly  flowing, 
I  watched  the  waters  as  they  murmured  by ; 
There,  when  the  summer  wind  was  softly  blowing, 
I  lay  and  dreamed  of  music  in  the  sky. 

Life  was  all  bright  to  me, 
When  I  had  rest  in  thee, 
Sweet  HOME. 


Thus  Memory  wakes  and  counts  her  dropping  tears, 

Thus  sadly  turns  to  old,  departed  joy, 
Till,  all-forgetting  the  long  lapse  of  years, 

I  seem  once  more  a  happy-hearted  boy. 
Alas  for  me,  that  Time  is  ever  flying ! 

The  friends  that  blessed  my  childhood,  live  no  more  ; 


GO 


One  after  one,  I  saw  them  sickening,  dying, 
And  so  they  fled  to  the  eternal  shore. 

Like  the  last  gleam  of  day, 
They  vanished  all  away, 
From  HOME. 

Not  lost  —  not  lost  —  above  yon  arch  of  blue, 

That  smiles  and  brightens  as  I  gaze  on  high, 
The  friends  of  my  young  years,  the  fond,  the  true, 
Have  found  their  promised  mansions  in  the  sky. 
All  safely  gathered  in  their  heavenly  dwelling, 

Prepared  of  old  for  them  that  love  the  LORD, 
With  songs  from  golden  harps  in  rapture  swelling, 
They  live  to  praise  him  and  obey  his  word. 
Oh  !  could  my  spirit  free, 
Break  its  flesh-chains  and  see 
That  HOME  ! 


61 


to  a  iuitoto." 


lufee. 

ALONE,  alone,  thou  passest  by  me  now, 
Witli  weary  step  and  sorrow-laden  head  ; 

The  shadow  of  thy  heart  is  on  thy  brow, 
Thy  living  soul  dwells  ever  with  the  dead. 

Around  thy  path  the  flowers  of  summer  spring, 
Sighing  their  sweetest  breath  when  thou  art  nigh  ; 

The  breeze  of  summer  fans  thee  with  its  wing, 
And  songs  of  summer  fill  the  glowing  sky, 
6 


62 


But  all  unseen  the  stars  of  beauty  roll, 
There  is  no  glory  on  the  land  or  sea ; 

The  Prison  of  the  Past  confines  thy  soul, 
And  memory  makes  the  only  life  for  thee. 

O  happy  days  !  forever,  ever  fled  ; 

O  heart  beloved  !  that  beats  with  life  no  more  ; 
O  Hope,  the  angel !  wounded,  bleeding,  dead  ; 

O  sea  of  sorrow !  sea  without  a  shore. 


[I  stop  writing  in  despair.  The  most  vivid  and  powerful 
•words  of  all  language,  were  it  possible  for  me  to  use  them, 
would  seem,  by  their  very  feebleness,  only  to  mock  the  unut 
terable  agony  of  the  widowed  heart.] 


63 


" 


Clfe  iwft  pssetfj 


HALF  in  light,  and  half  in  shade, 
This  was  the  earth's  primeval  plan, 

And  Gloom  and  Glory  still  are  made 
To  interchange  their  gifts  to  man. 

Millions  salute  the  rising  sun  ; 

In  deepest  darkness  millions  lie  ; 
While  stars  of  beauty,  one  by  one, 

Shine  out  and  vanish  from  the  sky. 


With  dance  and  song  goes  forth  the  bride, 
Joy  beating  in  her  innocent  breast, 

For  proudly,  fondly,  at  her  side, 
Walks  one  who  loveth  her  the  best. 


Pass  on  —  a  funeral  train  is  near, 
Moving  with  footsteps  sad  and  slow, 

And  there  upon  the  heavy  bier, 
The  husband  of  her  heart  lies  low. 

In  hope  and  pain  a  child  is  born, 
And  a  new  light  to  earth  is  given ; 

Then  from  the  tree  the  flower  is  torn, 
And  wafted  upward  into  heaven. 

In  yonder  hall  the  gay  have  met, 

With  wit  and  wine  the  hours  are  flying ; 

In  yonder  hut  rough  cheeks  are  wet 
With  tears  for  her  who  lies  a  dying. 


65 


Into  the  rush  of  life  we  go, 

Where  crowds  are  struggling  for  the  crown, 
One  wins ;  but  his  victorious  blow 

Must  beat  a  hundred  brothers  down. 

Hope  in  her  beauty  sails  along ; 

With  music  sweet  she  fills  the  air ; 
But  in  the  pauses  of  her  song, 

We  hear  the  answers  of  Despair. 

Half  in  shade  and  half  in  light, 

So  moves  the  world  from  day  to  day ; 

Sorrow  may  come  in  the  clouds  of  night, 
But  joy  returns  with  the  morning  ray. 

O  man  !  bewildered  in  life's  maze, 

Learn  thou  the  wisdom  of  this  rhyme, 

IN  JOY  REMEMBER  THE  EVIL  DAYS, 

AND  IN  SORROW  HOPE  FOR  A  HAPPIER  TIME. 


66 


[Br  the  words  "crown,"  "mitre,"  "temple,"  "throne,"  "al 
tar,"  as  used  in  the  lines  following,  I  am  far  enough  from  in 
tending  a  reference  to  any  rightly  constituted  and  rightly  exer 
cised  Authority;  whether  of  a  temporal  or  spiritual  nature. 
But  I  take  them  as  representatives  of  the  political  and  ecclesi 
astical  DESPOTISM  under  which  the  world  has  so  long  groaned, 
and  which,  even  now,  is  only  beginning  to  relax  its  murderous 
grasp  upon  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men.] 


.  . 


(Dtetum,  okrtunt,  otetunu 


FORWARD  !  the  day  is  breaking, 

Earth  shall  be  dark  no  more  ; 
Millions  of  men  are  waking, 

Their  long,  long  sleep  is  o'er  ; 
With  trumpets  and  with  banners, 

The  world  is  marching  on  ; 
The  air  rings  with  hosannas  ; 

Forward  !  the  field  is  won. 


G7 

Trampling  on  crown  and  mitre, 

How  steadily  we  go ! 
While  bright  and  ever  brighter, 

The  fires  of  morning  glow. 
Behold  !  the  foe  is  flying, 

Blasted  by  light  from  heaven, 
Or  in  the  battle  dying, 

Unwept  and  unforgiven. 


Forward !  though  storm  and  thunder 

May  roar  to  beat  us  back ; 
Though  the  earth  cleave  asunder 

Across  our  constant  track. 
No  shapes  of  terror  frighten 

Hearts  that  are  true  and  strong, 
But  the  flames  their  pathway  brighten, 

And  the  thunders  roll  in  song. 


C8 

Forward !     The  world  before  us 

Listens  to  hear  our  tread, 
And  the  calm,  pure  heavens  o'er  us, 

Smile  blessings  on  our  head ; 
Hope,  like  an  angel,  hovers 

Above  the  way  we  go, 
And  the  shield  of  Patience  covers 

Our  hearts  from  every  foe. 


Forward  !     Let  none  now  falter ; 

The  glorious  end  is  near, 
When  temple,  throne  and  altar, 

Shall  fall  and  disappear. 
Truth,  born  of  heaven,  shall  guide  us 

To  his  own  pleasant  land, 
And  evermore  beside  us, 

Freedom  and  Love  shall  stand. 


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